It was August on a Thursday evening when I got a phone call from my boss telling me that I will be shipped off to Russia in no less than 2 weeks. I did not know what to expect then, but it certainly was not a 2 hour wait to pass through immigration while being pushed and pulled over by intimidating men that towered over me. After finally emerging from the whole conundrum, walking out into a messy construction view and heat, oh the tropical-country-like-heat, sent waves of confusion all over my body. Don't even get me started on Uber... if this was what it will be like, it will be a long 3 months ahead of me.
They say nothing worthwhile comes easy. And I suppose the same applies here. After the initial bumpy entry into the country, and a 45-minute drive passing by sandy-coloured communist-styled blocked buildings, coming into Moscow would soon make me eat all my initial haste. It will soon slowly but very surely change me fundamentally in a way I cannot put down in words. You see, Moscow is unlike any other city I have ever set foot on. Its beauty is so imminent and present at every sight. Perhaps the most visible characteristic here is that every thing is so large. Many other famous landmarks frequently disappoint travelers for appearing larger in pictures and on the internet, but not here. Everything, is bigger.
In Moscow, you can almost feel its rich history, from the old days of wooden churches that though sparse, can be seen if you paid attention, to the tsarist era evident in the imposing physical structures complete with intricate detailing and craftsmanship - a testament to the culture and artistic pursuit, all to little reminders of communist styled signs and statues around. Each step takes you further into a world of wonder, where you can simultaneously take too many photos and none at all in an attempt to capture in your memory the beauty that lay in front of you. To no avail, because the true beauty lies not in what you see but what you feel inside.
After all, this is a city that has seen richness, poverty, pain and suffering, and has survived all of that through its grit and strength, all the while with grace and heads held high, looking immaculate at every step of the way. And perhaps, it is this strength in their selves that both characterise the people and its city. Cold and hard at first glance, but stay a while longer and persist through the chill and you will find a misunderstood warmth that lay beneath.
You can most certainly keep yourself entertain just walking and keeping your eyes forwards. This city is stimulating to the artistic and creative mind, with statues and decorations in parks, metros elaborately designed and lovingly labelled the "People's Palace", art galleries and museums... Of course, concerts in one of their many musical venues, plays and musicals, and the infamous Bolshoi. It is always a case of too much and not enough all at once.
All these display Moscow's persistence in perfection that has existed long before modern day, structures that have stood the test of time, and art that remains at its pinnacle for hundreds of years. Discipline and rigorous, the relentless pursuit of beauty and precision. But once night falls an altogether different Moscow appears. Music streaming out of underground clubs and jazz bars, craft beer bars serving sweet cherry beer, and maybe the most inclusive clubbers in all the world (or at least wherever I have been) so ready to share with you their culture, which fortunately involves vodka and Russian rock music, and bobbing your head till it's definitely time to go home. It is at this time when the city comes out of its shell and come alive. It is then I realise how this perfectly captures the juxtaposition of Moscow. A cold hard exterior with a wash of warmth after peeling away the layers and gaining the trust of the Russians, a youthful energy that underlies the city despite it's old European outlook.
If the opportunity ever arises in your life to visit this city, grab it with both hands. If it doesn't make it come true yourself. You won't regret it.
They say nothing worthwhile comes easy. And I suppose the same applies here. After the initial bumpy entry into the country, and a 45-minute drive passing by sandy-coloured communist-styled blocked buildings, coming into Moscow would soon make me eat all my initial haste. It will soon slowly but very surely change me fundamentally in a way I cannot put down in words. You see, Moscow is unlike any other city I have ever set foot on. Its beauty is so imminent and present at every sight. Perhaps the most visible characteristic here is that every thing is so large. Many other famous landmarks frequently disappoint travelers for appearing larger in pictures and on the internet, but not here. Everything, is bigger.
In Moscow, you can almost feel its rich history, from the old days of wooden churches that though sparse, can be seen if you paid attention, to the tsarist era evident in the imposing physical structures complete with intricate detailing and craftsmanship - a testament to the culture and artistic pursuit, all to little reminders of communist styled signs and statues around. Each step takes you further into a world of wonder, where you can simultaneously take too many photos and none at all in an attempt to capture in your memory the beauty that lay in front of you. To no avail, because the true beauty lies not in what you see but what you feel inside.
After all, this is a city that has seen richness, poverty, pain and suffering, and has survived all of that through its grit and strength, all the while with grace and heads held high, looking immaculate at every step of the way. And perhaps, it is this strength in their selves that both characterise the people and its city. Cold and hard at first glance, but stay a while longer and persist through the chill and you will find a misunderstood warmth that lay beneath.
You can most certainly keep yourself entertain just walking and keeping your eyes forwards. This city is stimulating to the artistic and creative mind, with statues and decorations in parks, metros elaborately designed and lovingly labelled the "People's Palace", art galleries and museums... Of course, concerts in one of their many musical venues, plays and musicals, and the infamous Bolshoi. It is always a case of too much and not enough all at once.
All these display Moscow's persistence in perfection that has existed long before modern day, structures that have stood the test of time, and art that remains at its pinnacle for hundreds of years. Discipline and rigorous, the relentless pursuit of beauty and precision. But once night falls an altogether different Moscow appears. Music streaming out of underground clubs and jazz bars, craft beer bars serving sweet cherry beer, and maybe the most inclusive clubbers in all the world (or at least wherever I have been) so ready to share with you their culture, which fortunately involves vodka and Russian rock music, and bobbing your head till it's definitely time to go home. It is at this time when the city comes out of its shell and come alive. It is then I realise how this perfectly captures the juxtaposition of Moscow. A cold hard exterior with a wash of warmth after peeling away the layers and gaining the trust of the Russians, a youthful energy that underlies the city despite it's old European outlook.
If the opportunity ever arises in your life to visit this city, grab it with both hands. If it doesn't make it come true yourself. You won't regret it.
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